Chris Kringle
by Ink Spotz
Summary: The Marvel films have come to an end, and Chris Evans is unable to book a steady job because he can't stop being seen as anything other than Captain America. With the holiday season fast approaching, Chris belligerently agrees to take a low paying job as a Santa Claus. What transpires from this experience will change his life.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Hollywood is a machine. Either you are part of the inner workings of the machine, or you're rusted and no longer needed. The machine would throw you aside if it no longer found any value in you, and you were left to try to readjust the best you could. That's where Chris Evans was finding himself at this very moment. With the Marvel run coming to an end after the Infinity Wars, he tried for the longest time to find a new gig. However, that was harder than he had anticipated. Sure, while filming the Marvel movies, he had been able to have other movie projects here and there, but now that the Marvel films were done, he was starting to fade into obscurity. The casting directors kept telling them, when they'd turn him down, that he didn't get the job because no one was able to see him as anything other than Captain America. This, of course, perturbed him to no end. He didn't understand why they couldn't look past the character he had once played, and why everyone was acting as if he were some nobody again. He didn't feel like he was self-entitled. He wasn't cocky, but he at least wanted a chance, and no one was giving it to him. That was unfortunately how the Hollywood machine worked, and Chris was just another one of its victims.

Staring in a disgruntled manner at the coffee in front of him, he waited for Sebastian Stan to show up. Having worked with Sebastian on multiple projects once upon a time, the two had become great friends. Sebastian, unlike Chris, had a seemingly easy time booking projects ever since Marvel came to an end. However, Sebastian could tell how down Chris was becoming throughout the whole thing and had been promising him for over a week now that he had an idea. That's why Chris was at this diner waiting for Sebastian. He was waiting to be enlightened. Otherwise, he would have stayed home and had a film binge again.

Rain snaked down the window by his head; a metronomic beat to the diner's talk. Letting out a sigh, Chris reached a hand up to scratch at the beard that he had been growing there; growing increasingly antsy with each passing second. A waitress walking by the table just then saw him sigh heavily and look down at his watch.

"Can I get you something while you wait?" she asked as she paused at the head of the table Chris was seated at.

Turning to face her, he tried to put a smile upon his face. The waitress stood before him; her little white apron soiled by multiple food and beverage stains. Her name tag that was tacked to her preppy pink shirt read 'Claire', and matched the pink off-brand converse on her feet. Her brown eyes continued to stare at him in question, soon clearing her throat to ask once more, "Can I get you something, Mr. Evans?"

He smiled at that. She knew who he wasn't. Not everyone was acting like he had never existed.

"No, but thank you. I appreciate you asking."

She smiled slightly and shrugged.

"It's my job," she remarked right before a voice bellowed from the bowels of the kitchen. Turning her head to look over her shoulder, she sighed. "Excuse me."

He nodded, furrowing his brows as he watched her walk towards the kitchen and disappear through the swinging doors. He couldn't focus on it for long though before he heard the bell above the diner cling, and turning, saw Sebastian enter with a large black bag draped around his arm. Seeing Chris at one of the tables in back, he quickly made his way over.

"I see that you're still here. I'm sorry for being late," said Sebastian as he slid into the booth seat across from Chris, laying the bag on his arm gently beside him.

"Who's your friend?" asked Chris as he nodded his head towards the bag Sebastian had just laid down.

"My friend?" asked Sebastian, confused for a second until he saw that Chris was staring at the bag he had just laid down. "Oh! That!" Sebastian laughed as he leaned forward to pick up a menu. "That's why I'm late."

"Still doesn't answer my question," remarked Chris.

"I know. Means I don't want to answer it yet," said Sebastian with a smirk as he moved to open the menu. "I see you've ordered coffee. Have you ordered anything to eat?"

"I'm not hungry," said Chris as he sighed, leaning back against the red pleather booth.

"Dude, no. Cute the crap." Sebastian spun the menu around so that it was now facing Chris and pointed a finger down at it. "Pick out something."

"Are you my mother now?" asked Chris.

"If I have to be a mother figure to you to get you to eat, then yes."

Chris smirked, leaning forward once more to eye the menu. Seeing Chris begin to look at the menu caused Sebastian to begin relaxing a bit.

"Fine. If you're really wanting to see me eat something, I'll try the club sandwich."

"You've turned boring," teased Sebastian with a chuckle as he moved to reclaim the menu. "And before you make some snide remark, I'm only teasing you."

Chris watched Sebastian begin to leaf through the menu for himself as they waited to be waited on. Chris was half wondering if Claire would be their waiter. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. A woman in her late forties came over; dressed in a pale yellow and white plaid dress that seemed to be fraying somewhat. Her apron, like Claire's, was just as soiled. Her name tag read "Annabel".

"What can I get you both today?"

"One pasta salad and water for me, and a club sandwich over here for my boy," said Sebastian, smirking over at Chris who decided to reward him by giving him a soft kick to the shin under the table.

Annabel chuckled at seeing the childish display that two men in their late thirties was putting on. She focused on her small pad in her hand, taking down their order before looking up at them with a smile.

"I'll be back momentarily with your order," said Annabel with a smile before walking off to the kitchen.

As Annabel swung open the door to the kitchen, the shouting from behind seemed to escalate in volume for a moment. Chris' eyes moved to lock on the door, wincing a bit at the fighting from inside the kitchen. Sebastian turned his head towards the kitchen too, wrinkling his nose a bit at the sounds.

"They certainly aren't in the spirit of the season," remarked Sebastian, soon turning his gaze back onto Chris.

"The weather outside isn't either," remarked Chris, having forgot that Christmas would be upon them all in a matter of weeks.

"Neither are you," stated Sebastian with a heavy sigh. "C'mon man. Don't act like this."

"Act like what?"

" _This,_ " said Sebastian, gesturing across the table at Chris and the slouched position he was now finding himself in once again. "You're acting like a Scrooge."

"A Scrooge? I'm not a penny pincher. Try comparing me to someone else, would you?"

Sebastian held his hands up in an act of surrender.

"Look, I'm not here to pick a fight with you. I'm here to help you out like any friend would."

"Uh huh," said Chris, moving to pick up his coffee cup and bring it to his lips again.

Sebastian shook his head then, turning to look out the window at the rain that was still pouring down outside. They both stewed in silence for a good couple of minutes, not saying anything. Annabel delivered their meals while they both still sat in awkward silence. Breaking the silence then, Chris turned to look at Annabel before she walked off and asked, "What's going on back there?"

The fight was _still_ ongoing back there; highlighted here or there by a smashing of a plate or a banging of a pot. Chris was starting to get concerned, especially since the other waitress, Claire, had yet to come back out of the kitchen. Annabel turned her head towards the kitchen before looking back at Chris.

"It's what normally happens nowadays, it seems. At any rate, I hope that you both enjoy your meal."

Annabel turned then and walked back into the kitchen where the war seemed to be raging on. Sebastian turned from the window then to begin picking at his salad. Chris knew that he had to try to lighten the awkwardness between them.

"And you said my club sandwich was boring? Look at you eating pasta salad."

A glimmer of a smirk appeared on Sebastian's face as he looked over at Chris, who was smirking right back at him.

"Pasta salad is more exciting than two slices of bread with lettuce."

Chris scoffed, clapping both hands about his sandwich as if to cover its ears.

"Don't listen to him, my beloved sandwich. He hasn't a clue what he's talking about."

Sebastian chuckled then, rolling his eyes as he began to eat. The tension was gone.

"Just shut up and eat, dude," remarked Sebastian as he chewed on a few pieces of pasta thoughtfully before flicking his gaze to the black bag beside him.

Chris saw Sebastian flick his gaze towards the bag again, and asked after swallowing a bite of his sandwich, "You gonna tell me what you're hiding now?"

Sebastian nodded his head after a moment, putting his fork down as he looked over at Chris.

"Now, you have to promise me you'll listen to what I have to say."

Chris frowned a bit at that, putting his sandwich back down on his plate.

"Why don't I like the sound of that?" asked Chris slowly, arching a brow. "Spit it out."

"I have a job for you to do that will last at least for a small while."

"A job?" asked Chris. "Is it an acting job?"

"In a way, yes. Depends on your perspective."

"My perspective?" asked Chris.

"You can't be a Scrooge with this job. You need to act happy even if you aren't."

"Sebastian. What job did you book me?"

"It'd be easier if I showed you," said Sebastian, turning to move and pick up the bag beside him, unveiling what was hidden in it slightly.

When Chris saw what Sebastian was revealing to him, his eyes widened into the size of quarters.

"No. There is absolutely no...and you've already booked me this gig? Geez, Seb!"

"What? I can't watch you wasting away like this anymore!"

"I'm not wasting away!"

"You are! Your money won't last forever!"

"You're acting like I'm going to be unemployed forever."

"Chris. Look. You need to get back into the game somehow. This is somehow."

" _That_ ," said Chris, nodding his head towards the black bag, "Is certainly _something_ , but it isn't my somehow. No."

"Can't you at least think about it? It's not like it's a permanent job."

"What makes you think I'd even be good at this job?"

"I know you, and you're a people person. You'd be good at this. It's only temporary, but at least this will stop you from moping about the whole holiday season."

"Sebastian…"

"At least think about it. For me."

Chris sighed, leaning back in the booth to look out the window again.

"Fine. I'll think about it."

Sebastian smiled a small smile of victory then as he began to eat his pasta salad with a renewed vigor. Chris, meanwhile, continued to stare out the window. He was completely lost in his thoughts. No matter how much he disliked being where he was at, he knew that he didn't have a choice. Sebastian was right. He had to get back into the swing of things somehow.

Hollywood is a machine, and if he had to pretend to be Santa Claus to appease some kids for a few weeks, he would do it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Chris stood on the sidewalk outside the department store for the longest time. The wind picked up again, nipping at his cheeks and jaw. He was thankful in that moment for the beard that he was sporting. At least it served to keep him warmer than he would have been finding himself otherwise at that moment.

"What are you doing, Evans?" he asked out loud to himself, glancing at the window display.

Currently being set up in the window was a "Countdown to Christmas" display. There were two people working around in the cramped space of the display. One person (the taller out of the two) was trying to hook the large foam December calendar into place while the other was busy propping up little elves and reindeer in their winter wonderland looking set. As Chris continued to watch them, the one propping up the elves noticed him, and stared at him with his mouth wide open. It took Chris a second to realize he was being gawked at, and feeling a bit flustered by it, he ducked his head to move. He pushed inside the building, needing to get away from the stare happy employee. As he pushed through the door, he heard a small bit of crashing coming from the window display followed by many quick and rushed apologies. Soon enough the gawking employee could be heard running after him, quickly moving to stand right in front of him.

"You're Chris Evans, aren't you? Captain America?"

He paused then (not like he had a choice really with the employee blocking the one and only path to the toy department). He nodded his head, allowing his hands to migrate to the insides of his pocket as the employee looked at him like a giddy child.

"It's an honor to actually meet you sir," said the bumbling employee. "My name is Smithy, sir."

"Nice to meet you, Smithy," said Chris with a small smile at him, "And there really is no need to call me sir."

"Right, sorry sir...I mean, Chris...Oh...Mr. Evans?"

Chris chuckled a bit at the way Smithy became flustered. The chuckle caused Smithy to pause, taking a deep breath to settle himself.

"Please. You can call me Chris, or whatever you're comfortable with," replied Chris sincerely as Smithy just rapidly nodded his head in understanding.

"What are you doing here?" Smithy asked before immediately beginning to backpedal, "I mean, you're of course always welcomed here. It's just that I didn't expect to see you in a toy store...Do you have kids?"

"No," said Chris then, removing his hands from his pockets. "I'm here for the Santa Claus position."

" _You're_ the Santa Claus this year?" Smithy asked before beginning to laugh. "Oh. Wait until my boss finds out."

Chris furrowed his brows then, wondering what Smithy was going on about.

"Is he not expecting me or something?"

"No, actually. He wasn't even expecting a male. Thought he was gonna have to order a Santa dress."

"Why?..." asked Chris, clearly confused by the whole thing.

"I'll let him explain," said Smithy slowly stopping with his chuckling now. "Come on. I'll lead you to his office."

Chris watched Smithy begin to walk off down the hallway, pausing then to cast a glance backwards at the door. It was far too late to go back now. Taking a deep breath, he turned and followed Smithy down the hallway. The hallway itself wasn't anything special. It lay off to the left of the toy department; it's skinny gray walls surrounding you on all sides, only broken up by the occasional chipping white door. Finally Smithy came to a stop at one of the doors that happened to be cracked open. He reached up a fist and rapped it on the gray door frame.

"Mr. Sweet, your Santa is here."

Chris stayed behind Smithy, completely out of view as a friendly voice bellowed out, "Well, escort the young lady right on in. What are you waiting for?"

Smithy turned halfway to look at Chris over his shoulder with a small sheepish look on his face before turning back around and opening the door wider.

"Actually, sir, our Santa is a man."

Chris stepped into view then, standing in the doorway as he looked into the interior of the office. The color on the walls of this tiny office matched the ones in the hallway. It was completely bland and gray. The only splashes of color in the room came from a variety of cards that hung on several strings on the left wall like laundry on a clothes line. The man sitting behind the chaotic desk wore a white dress shirt with a candy cane striped tie. In front of him sat an old Dell PC that was still kicking, making a loud humming sound. The man cast his gray eyes up at Smithy as he and Chris stood near each other in the doorway; the florescent light from above bouncing off the balding spot on the top of his whitening head.

Upon seeing Chris standing behind Smithy, the so called Mr. Sweet gave him a wide smile, gesturing a hand towards the rickety looking chair in front of his desk.

"Please have a seat, and we shall discuss the position," said Mr. Sweet before flicking his gaze back at Smithy in the doorway. "Thank you for escorting him down here. Now go back to helping Scott with the display."

"Yes, sir," said Smithy with a slight nod. He cast one more look at Chris as he took a seat in front of Mr. Sweet's desk before turning to leave and shutting the door behind him.

As Smithy's footsteps died away down the hallway, Mr. Sweet's full attention returned to Chris. Chris sat a bit anxiously on the seat, balling his hands together as he watched Mr. Sweet stare at him for a few moments. The spell was soon broken though as Mr. Sweet moved to pick up a clipboard that lay on his desk.

"I take it your name is not Chrise then," he said as he kept looking at the clipboard in his hands. "I mean, I've never seen a spelling of Chrissy like this before, but I wasn't going to say anything..."

"May I see?" Chris asked softly, holding a hand out for the clipboard.

Without question, Mr. Sweet handed the clipboard over for Chris to look at. As his eyes scanned the page in front of him, he recognized Sebastian's handwriting. In true Sebastian style, it was a bit hard to make out his name. It looked as if he had spelled his name as "Chrise Vans" instead of "Chris Evans".

"I'm sorry for the confusion," said Chris as he moved to hand the clipboard back to Mr. Sweet. "My friend's handwriting is hard to decipher at times."

"As are all of ours. Everyone has their moments," said Mr. Sweet with a small chuckle as he looked at Chris. "Don't worry about it."

Chris nodded his head, giving Mr. Sweet a small smile as he watched him lean back in his chair and begin to look at the clipboard once more.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you. I can clearly see that you aren't a girl, and that you're a young gun."

The way that he called him a young gun made him a bit uneasy. He cocked an eyebrow at Mr. Sweet and asked slowly, "Is that alright?"

"Of course it is!" said Mr. Sweet with a smile. "The beard puts on fifty years at any rate, so to speak."

Chris cracked a small smile at that, nodding his head.

"I really do appreciate you giving me this chance."

"Well, you came highly recommended," said Mr. Sweet as he threw the clipboard down onto the desk and stood up. "Come along, I'll show you where you'll be working for the next few weeks."

Chris slowly rose from the chair that creaked at his departure. Following after Mr. Sweet as he opened his office door and walked down the hallway, Chris remained silent, just trying to take everything in. They soon found themselves back out in the entryway that Chris had found himself in to begin with. Loud noises could be heard being generated from the window display, which caused Mr. Sweet to chuckle.

"Sending Scott and Smithy to set up a window display is always a disaster waiting to happen," Mr. Sweet remarked as they headed towards the toy department.

"Then why do you continue to let them do it?" asked Chris.

Mr. Sweet shrugged.

"I suppose because it keeps life interesting," said Mr. Sweet.

Chris nodded his head, not having much time to think on what Mr. Sweet had just said as they entered the toy department. It looked like the Christmas scene in the toy store from the "Elf" movie. Christmas lights were strung from shelf to shelf like a spider's web; flickering red and green in a rhythmic manner. Fake snow decorated the ground at both their feet as Mr. Sweet led the way down one of the aisles. The fake snow lined the path to where Santa's throne chair sat; a cardboard cutout of Santa's toy factory in the background. The red cushion of the Santa chair looked a bit sick color wise, as if it either hadn't been properly dusted off or it had been bleached by repeated exposure to light. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

"I suppose this is where I'm going to be planted for the foreseeable future?" asked Chris with a faint smile, stepping around Mr. Sweet to walk towards the throne chair.

"Yes, yes. That's Saint Nick's chair," said Mr. Sweet with a tinge of pride in his voice. "Feel free to have a seat and test it out."

Chris slowly took a seat on the throne chair, surprised that he could see a good portion of the store from his position. As he leaned back in the seat, he looked towards Mr. Sweet again with a small smile.

"Nice chair," he said. "Very Santa Clause like."

Mr. Sweet smiled at that remark, watching Chris sit in the chair.

"So," said Mr. Sweet as he took a deep breath, "Ready to hear the details of your job? It's rather straight forward."

"Of course. Go right on ahead."

"The deal with this job is that you'll be here from opening to closing for the next several weeks, listening to all of the children's request for Christmas presents. Your elf helper," said Mr. Sweet as he gestured towards another, slightly smaller, chair beside the one Chris was in, "will issue the children's parents with coupons for whatever item in the store they asked for, for Christmas."

"That's kind of you," said Chris.

"Well, it's Christmas. Can't have a child going without what they asked for if it can be helped."

Chris smiled a bit more at that. Perhaps the job wouldn't be so terrible after all. His boss seemed nice, and his end of the job didn't seem like it would be that terrible. Relaxing a bit more on the chair, there was only one more thing he needed to ask.

"Just one last question," said Chris as he crossed his legs, "if you don't mind, of course."

"I don't mind at all," said Mr. Sweet. "Please ask away."

"Who's my elf helper?"

Mr. Sweet smiled a bit, chuckling as he replied, "Smithy, of course."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

His alarm blared out in the comforts of his apartment. Without even opening his eyes, he knew that it was still pitch black out and that it was cold. Letting out a small groan, he kept his eyes shut and grabbed at the blanket, pulling it up under his chin. He would grope for the alarm if it wasn't so cold out. He heard the clicking of nails across the floor, and before he could react, his dog, Dodger, was upon him.

"No. Get off. I'm not getting up."

Dodger continued to nuzzle at his face, trying to coax his owner to join the land of the living. Chris let out a sigh, unearthing a hand from under the sheets to gently push Dodger away, chuckling softly.

"Alright, alright. I'm getting up."

Sitting up slowly, Chris opened his eyes and turned to look at his alarm clock. He blinked back the sleep as his hand reached out to shut the alarm off. It took him a moment to realize why he had had to get up this early. When the reason came back to him, he felt as if a weight of some sort had been placed upon his chest. It had been a little bit of time since his last gig. What if something were to go wrong?

He moved to swing his legs out of bed, beginning to walk out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. Seeing his owner leave the room, Dodger jumped off the now messy bedspread and followed him to the kitchen.

"I know you're hungry," said Chris with a small smile, retrieving the bag of dog food. He moved towards Dodger's bowl and began to pour the food into it. "Here you go, boy."

Dodger couldn't seem to get to his bowl fast enough, half pushing Chris' arm out of the way as he retracted the bag once the bowl was full. Chris chuckled as he put the bag back where it had been before. Before he could move to make his own breakfast, his phone began to ring. Unsure who would be calling him that early, he moved to go pick it up without looking at the Caller ID.

"Yes?" he asked as he pressed the 'talk' button and put the phone up to his ear.

"You're up then. Or did I wake you?"

It was Sebastian. Of course it would be him.

"Are you calling because you think that I'm ditching my first day of this job?"

"Well, I just wanted to make sure. I mean, you weren't exactly excited about taking the job in the first place."

"Seb, I'm going. Don't worry. The alarm and Dodger both woke me up."

Sebastian laughed at that.

"Alright then. As long as you're going to go in this morning. You can expect a visit from me at some point. Whenever I can get down there today..."

Chris sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his bed head hair.

"What for?"

"For support."

"Seb..."

"...And a picture or two. I told Robert and he wants pictures."

"I knew it."

"I'll just take a few. I promise that I won't torture you."

"And why do I find myself having a hard time believing that?" asked Chris with a smirk, softly chuckling to himself as he moved to start making his breakfast.

"Stop freaking out about it so much. I'll see you in a bit. Bye Chris."

"Yeah, alright. Bye."

Chris hung up the phone, staring at it for a few minutes. Today was certainly going to end up being an eventful day one way or another.

* * *

As Chris finished slipping into the moth-ball scented Santa suit that Sebastian had presented to him a few days ago, he heard a small knock against the bathroom door. This single stall bathroom was proving to not be the best changing spot. He had already had to slip out into the hallway several times partially dressed to allow people with tiny bladders to relieve themselves.

"Hang on a second!" Chris cried out, yanking at the fraying black belt again. He was almost done getting dressed. Whoever was waiting would just have to hold it for a few more seconds.

"It's just me!" came Smithy's voice.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm almost read-DARN IT!"

"Are you okay, Chris?"

Chris looked at the snapped black belt in his hands. He had obviously either put the belt on wrong, or the condition that Sebastian had given it to him in was not the best. He moved to start tugging at the belt that was still strung through the belt loops of his own jeans. Santa was going to have to have a Levi belt for at least a day or two.

"I'm fine. I'll be there in a second," replied Chris as he made quick work of putting the belt about his waist to hold up the red felt sweat pants and keep the Santa pudge up on his stomach where it should be.

Smithy's voice was no more as Chris finished putting the belt on. He was grateful for the opportunity to breathe. He moved to take his clothes off the hook and drape them over his arm. He'd have to find a place to keep them until that evening when he could change back. As he moved to open the door, a flash greeted his eyes. He quickly shut his eyes, bringing up his free arm to shield his face. Before he could tell whoever the photographer was, off, he heard the familiar laugh of Sebastian Stan ring through the air.

"Sebastian! Really?"

As Chris opened his eyes and brought his arm away from his face, he noticed that Smithy was sheepishly shrinking back against the gray wall behind him. Sebastian was still laughing as the flash on his phone went off again.

"How about you turn the flash off?" said Chris, reaching out to bat at Sebastian's phone, almost causing it to slip through his fingers and onto the cement floor under his feet.

"HEY! Careful with my phone!"

"How about you be careful with my eye sight? Santa is old, not blind," said Chris with a smirk. He brushed past Sebastian to walk back down the hall a little ways and into Mr. Sweet's office. He decided that he would leave his clothes here until after work. He didn't really have any other place to put them.

"Aren't you jolly ol' Saint Nick?" asked Sebastian as he leaned in the doorway. "I called you. I warned you I would be coming at some point to take pictures. I had a set break, so here I am."

"Why didn't you knock on the door? Why did you make Smithy do it?"

"To be able to capture the element of surprise," said Sebastian, turning the phone around in his hand to show Chris the shocked picture of Chris that he had pictured there. "The look on your face..."

"Well, you've had your laughs, but I've got work to do. Don't get me fired."

"I'm the one that got you this gig in the first place. You think I want to get you fired from it?"

Chris chuckled, moving to tug up the white beard over his face before coughing.

"Where did you store this thing?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? This beard smells like moth balls. Matter of fact, this whole suit reeks of moth balls."

"I got it from the costume department. They loaned it to me."

"Well, it maybe should have gone to the dry cleaner's first, but it's fine, I guess. Hopefully the kids won't notice."

"I'm sure the last thing on the minds of the children coming to see you today is how Santa smells."

Smithy moved to poke his head in the room then, peeking over Sebastian's shoulder as he looked at Chris.

"Mr. Sweet wants us both on the floor. The first children are starting to arrive."

"I'll be right there," said Chris to Smithy. He watched Smithy wander off before looking at Sebastian again. "You sticking around anymore, or are you going back to set?"

"I have to go back to set, but I can meet you after work - say around five or six? We can meet at the diner we met at the other day."

"Why that diner?" asked Chris.

"It's nice being able to eat without being mobbed," said Sebastian. He soon realized he shouldn't have said that in front of Chris, especially given what had been happening to Chris as of late.

"It's alright," said Chris, waving a dismissive hand Sebastian's way once he saw the look of concern on his face. "Don't worry. We can meet at the diner, sure. I liked that sandwich I had the other day."

"Then it's settled," said Sebastian, "And in the meantime, I'll just be texting a copy of this picture to Robert."

"Why is he so interested?" asked Chris, moving to walk around Sebastian then and down the hall towards the toy department.

"Because he was just as worried about you as I was, Chris, and when he found out that you were going to be playing a Santa, he couldn't wait to see what you would look like."

"Well, make sure you add a comment like 'season's greetings' or something snarky that he'd like seeing. A digital jab from me to him," said Chris.

"I will. I promise."

"Well, there you are Christopher, and you're looking mighty jolly! Mighty jolly indeed!" came Mr. Sweet's boisterous voice then, cutting into the conversation between Sebastian and Chris. Mr. Sweet walked over and clapped both of his hands on Chris' shoulder, staring him straight in the eyes. "Ready to fulfill children's wishes of meeting Santa Claus?"

"Yes, sir," said Chris; his smile hidden partially by the white beard on his face.

"That's the answer I'm looking to hear!" said Mr. Sweet.

Mr. Sweet then seemed to realize that Sebastian was standing behind Chris. Mr. Sweet's smile turned to Sebastian as he said, "Nice to see you again. Came to show your support to your friend?"

"Yes, I have, but I'm all supported out," said Sebastian with a chuckle; a small smile on his face. "I'm sorry, but you must excuse me. I have to get back to work before I'm missed."

"Of course. Come by and visit again though. You can always be an elf."

"Yes, Seb. Come back and be an elf. You could be a holiday Spock," said Chris.

"Chris, Spock is not an elf. Don't make me call Chris Pine on you," said Sebastian with a chuckle and an eye roll. "I'll see you later tonight."

Without another word, Sebastian moved to leave and Chris was being ushered into the toy department and towards Santa's chair. Off to the side of the chair sat Smithy. He looked a bit odd with his knees slightly bunched up due to the shortness of the chair, but he seemed okay with it. A red and green stripped hat adorned his head with two pointy ears stitched to the side of it that covered his own ears. On his lap lay a coupon book that he would fill out upon hearing what the children wanted most for Christmas. Moving towards the chair, Chris moved to take a seat. He turned his head to look over at Smithy.

"Next time Sebastian asks you to do something, make him do his own dirty work," said Chris, chuckling.

"Yes, Mr. Evans, sir."

"Smithy, I told you. You can call me Chris."

"SHHHH!" said Mr. Sweet, shushing them. Both Chris and Smithy turned to see the reason for Mr. Sweet's shushing slowly walking down the aisle. A child and their parents had arrived. It was time for the job to begin.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

It hadn't even gotten to be noon, and Chris was already finding himself getting tired of the Christmas album that Mr. Sweet seemed to have on repeat. It was obvious that the Christmas music was playing in an attempt to set the mood, but the songs now seemed to be a permanent working of his own brain. He found the lyrics to the songs cycling through his head as child after child came to sit on his lap and tell him what they wanted for Christmas.

There seemed to be two different classes of children that Chris would be faced with through the hours of hearing Christmas requests. One of these so called classes of children were ones who were completely spoiled. Chris could tell simply by the way that their parents would shoo them towards him that they were ones that they were parents that pampered their child. The child would proceed to climb on his lap after being shooed, and state that they wanted an expensive gadget or phone for Christmas because they had done absolutely nothing wrong all year. He had to merely nod at the child, letting them go their merry way towards Smithy the elf to get their coupon. It saddened him to see children who felt they were so self entitled.

There was, however, the opposite group of children that also came to see him that day with their Christmas wishes. These kids were either timid and white as sheet or looked as if their insides were about to become their outsides. The kids were either this way due to simply being shy, or just because they were star struck by Santa. Chris found himself wondering if they would be even more star struck if they realized the former Captain America was Santa. That's when he heard himself think 'former' and stopped. He wasn't Captain America anymore. He had to stop thinking that way.

There was one child that day though that caught Chris' interest. She was completely unlike either groups of children that he had been accustomed to seeing all day. She showed up towards the end of the day, sweetly standing at the back of the line as Chris was trying to finish up the small remaining line so they could close up shop.

"And what would you like for Christmas?" he asked, trying to mimic a jolly sounding voice.

"A drone," said the child with a grin on his face that told Chris he felt he was going to get it with or without Santa's help.

"A drone is a mighty tall order, but I'll see what my elves can pull together for you."

He helped the child off his lap, turning to face the children that remained. Some rendition of "Have a Holly, Jolly Christmas" circled through the air, and he noticed the girl in the back with her brown hair tied back with an elastic, dancing to the tune. She was tugging at the woman's hand beside her, trying to beckon her to dance along. The woman smiled, moving to mimic the girl's small movements despite being on the phone with someone. This child was acting the way a child should act. Happy.

By the time he actually got to her, he watched her take the few short steps up to where he sat. Her white shirt had a single candy cane in the middle, and her black pants showed signs of walking about in wet outdoors; mud clinging to the backs of her legs. Chris helped her up into his lap with a smile of kindness on his face.

"Hello there. What is your name?"

"My name is Atty."

"Atty! What a lovely name! How old are you?"

"I'm eight," she said, "But I'm going to be nine at the beginning of next year."

"Well, you're certainly a big girl then," said Chris, smiling behind his beard. "And what is it that you are wanting for Christmas?"

Atty paused then, looking towards the woman that she had been standing in line with. She was once again on the phone; her brows furrowed due to whatever conversation she was carrying out. Atty looked back up at Chris and said softly, "What I want for Christmas is for my mother to be happy again."

Chris' heart just about melted at the request. Not once today had he heard such a selfless request. His eyes instinctively went to the woman on the phone, assuming that was her mother. He was quickly corrected in his assumption though as the woman hung up the phone and moved towards them.

"Have you told Santa what you want for Christmas yet, Atty? Your mother wants me to get you home."

"I have," she said, sliding down off his lap. Once she was on her feet once more, she turned back to look at him with a small smile on her face. "Thank you, Santa."

She moved to walk off the small platform then, walking past Smithy who was still quickly scribbling in a coupon and ripping it off. He too seemed shocked by the request of the young girl. How did one give a coupon for happiness?

Before Atty, Chris had only thought requests like that were made in stories or in television movies. There was always that selfless character in a Christmas story that you always wanted the best for, but this. This was real.

Chris watched Atty and the woman with her leave the store; Mr. Sweet quickly sweeping in right behind them to begin locking up shop for the day. The Christmas lights that were decorating the store began to flicker out as Chris stood up off the chair and stretched.

"Well, that was certainly eventful," piped up Smithy as he rose from his own chair. He was still holding the coupon book in his hand. "My hand is cramping a bit from all the coupons I filled out."

"Do you not normally get this many kids?" asked Chris.

"Not normally on the first day, no, but I did hear talk that we might get a snow storm later this week, so it would make sense that the kids came in earlier to get ahead of the snow."

"Yeah...that does..." Atty was still in Chris' mind as he moved to begin walking off the small platform. "Hey, Smithy. What kind of coupon did you end up giving to the last child I saw?"

"The one that wanted her mother to be happy?" asked Smithy.

"Yeah, that one."

"I gave her a coupon for twenty percent off any item in the store. I wasn't sure what else to do."

Chris nodded his head. He wasn't sure what he would have done in Smithy's position. Smithy had done the best that he could given the request, but Chris found himself not wanting to let the whole thing slip away so easily. Maybe he could grant her request for her mother's happiness. He still had money. All he would need to do would be to track down Atty and ask her how such a request would be possible. There couldn't be that many Attys out there. He just had to find her again. The only question that remained was how.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Atty sat in the backseat of the car as she was being driven back to her house. She cast her eyes out the window as she was driven along, looking at all of the Christmas window displays. Christmas was only two weeks away, and Atty wanted to get her mother something that she would love for Christmas. She only had a few dollars in her own money that she planned on using, but deep down, she wanted to get her mother something that she thought she would appreciate and love.

"Do you want some tunes, Atty?" asked her aunt from the front seat, who was casting her eyes in the rearview mirror at her to see her staring out the window.

"Sure," said Atty softly, turning to look her aunt in the eye for a moment before her aunt broke eye contact to pay attention to the road in front of them.

A small 'click' sounded through the air as Atty's aunt reached over to tap the radio knob, causing the music to fill the interior of the coffee perfumed car. Atty began to hum along to the music, thinking back to her visit with Santa. Santa had been her last hope. She knew that her mother would love any gift that she was given, but Atty wanted it to be something special. Santa could do that.

"What did you ask Santa for? I missed it because I was taking a call from your mom," said her aunt.

"I can't tell you," said Atty, "Else it won't come true."

"You can tell me Atty," said her aunt kindly. "I won't say a word. It'll still come true."

Atty's aunt knew what kind of household she grew up in, and it was not a pretty one for an eight-year-old. Her mother and her father couldn't get along, and it got to the point where they couldn't live under the same roof as each other. The father had moved out of the house, and the two of them had filed for divorce. However, since the mother didn't have any way to keep up a stable home for her or Atty, she was forced to still work at the diner that her ex-husband was in charge of. Not a day went by where there wasn't a fight of some sort. Atty's aunt hated to think Atty would get caught in the crossfire. Atty's aunt only wanted the best for her, and wanted to make Atty's Christmas especially special if she could help it.

"Atty..."

"Auntie, I don't want to say," said Atty, putting a definitive end to the discussion.

Her aunt decided not to push it. There was no point in doing so when Atty had already come to a decision. She turned off into the driveway then, frowning when she noticed an all too familiar battered white car sitting there.

"Atty, sweetie," said her aunt as she began to unbuckle. "Stay here please. I'll be right back."

Atty obeyed her aunt even though she knew the reason why she had to stay in the car. Once outside the vehicle, Atty's aunt could hear traces of the argument making its way outside; only continuing to grow in volume as she approached the front door.

"Atty's not here!" came the mother's voice. "She's out with my sister! She wanted to see Santa!"

"You're still letting her do that stuff?" came the gruff voice of the father.

"She's a _child_. I know that's hard to get through your numb skull sometimes. You treat her too much like an adult."

"How else is she supposed to grow up? You're handicapping her! Besides, you're infringing on my side of this bargain! Do I need to drag the lawyers into this?"

"She'll be home soon! Just calm down!"

The aunt decided to butt in then, rapping a fist upon the door. The fighting inside immediately stopped as footsteps approached the door and opened it up. The light from inside the house shone out onto the porch, casting the shadow of the aunt onto the wooden boards.

"Is now a bad time?" she asked quietly, looking at her sister who looked completely worn out.

"No, no. Bring Atty in," said the mother with a smile before turning to look over her shoulder with a glare in her ex's direction. "Don't you dare act coldly towards Atty. Try to act like a decent human being for once in your life, or I _will_ drag the lawyers into this to make them take her away from you."

Atty's aunt moved to go back towards the car where Atty was still sitting in the front seat. She opened the door for her, smiling as sweetly as she could at the poor child that was about to go face the war. Atty slipped off the seat and moved to walk beside her aunt towards the fray that awaited her. As Atty walked over the threshold and into the house, her mother bent down before her and hugged her tightly.

"How was your visit with Santa?" asked her mother, gently smoothing down Atty's already flattened hair as they pulled back from the embrace.

"It went great!" Atty said. "I made my Christmas request."

Atty's blue eyes went from her mother's gaze to her father. Her father was leaning up against the kitchen counter, watching her intently. His gaze was cold; the complete opposite of what a father's should be.

"Claire, I want to take Atty home tonight," said Atty's father whose face was completely passive and looked like that of a killer.

Claire frowned, reaching out to run her fingers gently through Atty's hair again. Claire hadn't gotten done working that shift at the diner for nothing. She at least should have earned a few minutes to enjoy her daughter. Standing back up straight, Claire sighed, looking sadly from her ex to Atty and back again.

"Your father is here to take you for the weekend," Claire remarked, acting as if she had eaten something sour as she said it. "Can you say thank you to Auntie Violet for me?"

Atty turned to look at her Aunt Violet in the doorway. She had a stained smile on her face as she bent down to give Atty a quick hug. When Atty was released, she turned to her mother again. Her mother walked around the kitchen island to grab up her "My Little Pony" overnight bag and handed it to her father.

"She still has this?" He asked before sighing. "Again, you're handicapping her, but whatever..." He turned his attention back to Atty, beckoning to her as if she were a puppy. "Come on, Atty. Time to go. Say bye to Mommy."

Atty moved to hug her mother tightly, who hugged her in just as tight an embrace back. While they both hugged it out, Atty's father was moving towards the door so that he could get out of there.

"Bring her back Sunday night..." warned Claire as she watched her ex step out onto the porch, bending to clutch their daughter's hand in a bit of a vice grip as they walked towards his car.

"You act like I don't do this every week," he muttered before reaching his car. He unlocked it, and Atty slid into the back amongst the dispensed fast food bags and soda cans. He shut the door to the car, turning back to look at Claire and Violet on the porch.

"Goodnight ladies," he said with a mock bow as he opened the driver's door. "I shall see you both later."

He disappeared into the belly of the car then. With a shudder, the car came to life and headlights illuminated the driveway as he backed down the driveway in the car. Claire watched him drive off with her child, aching for her to be back.

"He always does this..." She whispered to Violet. "I just...Atty doesn't deserve this. Maybe I should have tried to make it work."

Violet reached out to gently pat her older sister's back.

"Claire, you've done what's right by Atty. This will turn out right for you given enough time."

Claire just nodded her head. She supposed that she shouldn't give up hope so quickly, but after being on the roller coaster she had been on in this relationship, she was starting to lose faith in ever being able to be happy again. Atty was her only source of joy. Aside from that, Claire felt that she was living in a nightmare that she'd never be able to wake up from.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Chris knew that Sebastian had been able to see right through him during their meeting at the diner after he had gotten off his first day of Santa duty. He had tried to act like he was listening as Sebastian kept up his cheerful banter about the day he had, had on set. He hadn't realized that as he talked, he was pushing around the food on his plate with his fork in an absentminded fashion. Sebastian could tell that Steve wasn't listening to a word he was saying, and was debating how to snap him out of it.

"So that's when I told him that I broke into the bank and stole all that gold. Remember that heist, Chris?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, I remember," said Chris, using the prongs on his fork to slap the lettuce in line behind his tomatoes.

"Really? You remember that? You remember the horse-drawn wagon we used to escape with too?"

"Oh yeah. I remember that."

Sebastian narrowed his gaze as he watched Chris' lettuce do a floppy cartwheel into the dressing.

"Cut the crap, Chris. You aren't even paying attention to what I've been saying."

Chris looked up at Sebastian, letting his blue gaze roam his face for a moment before looking back down at his salad.

"I have been paying attention."

"Then what have I been talking about?"

"You were...you were telling me about filming..."

"Yeah...a good twenty minutes ago," stated Sebastian. He sighed and leaned back against the booth he was seated in. "What has the iron grip on your attention? Spill."

"There's nothing to spill," remarked Chris.

"Dude, no. There is obviously something going on upstairs, otherwise you wouldn't have tuned me out to abuse your poor salad," said Sebastian, gesturing towards the salad that Chris had been beating about with his fork.

Sighing, Chris pushed his salad plate forward, allowing the fork to rest against the rim. He leaned back against the booth, sliding his hands over his thighs several times as if to rid them of sweat before making eye contact with Sebastian again.

"I met this little girl while I was at work today. She...She was remarkable."

Sebastian quirked a brow in Chris' direction, wondering what he was getting at.

"And how was this little girl remarkable?"

"She didn't ask for a toy or anything of that sort for Christmas. Her Christmas wish was that her mother would be happy again."

Sebastian hummed in thought then, touched also by that little girl's request. He studied Chris, noticing the way in which he was staring off into space again as his eyes stayed on the salad plate.

"Why are you still thinking about it?" asked Sebastian.

"It's just...all the other children made requests that could be fulfilled through coupons. Atty's request won't work like that."

"I take it Atty is the name of this little girl?"

Chris nodded his head, still staring absently at his limp lettuce.

"Chris, you do know that you aren't actually Santa Claus. You don't actually have an obligation to fulfill each of their wishes."

"It's just...no one makes such a selfless request, and I want her to have a Merry Christmas just the same as all the rest of those children will."

"Yes, but Chris. Think about this, man. Logically, how are you going to do that?"

"I have some money. I'll find Atty again, and give her some money to give to her mother. Maybe she's unhappy because she's struggling financially."

"Chris! Dude! Stop this."

Chris' eyes snapped back up to look at Sebastian; surprise festering in them.

"Why?"

"Do you realize how many Attys there probably are in the world? What makes you think you'll find her again? What makes you think the thing that will make her mother happy is money?"

"Seb, I don't know, but I can't give up. That child...it was one request I just can't let go of. It's going to be my mission to make that child have a Merry Christmas. You can choose to support me or not."

Sebastian let out a long sigh before turning his gaze to look out the window for a moment, trying to figure out what the right words in that situation would be.

"I'm not meaning to sound like I'm heartless. I'm just trying to be practical, Chris." Sebastian turned his gaze away from the window again to look at Chris. "I got you this gig to get you out of the rut that you found yourself in."

"And it _is_ Seb. I must admit that I wasn't crazy about this. Even this morning, I wanted nothing more than to back down, but that has changed. Now I feel like I have a purpose. A mission, if you will."

Sebastian smirked at the way Chris worded it.

"A mission, huh?"

"Yes, and I would really like you to support me. I know it may be futile, but I can't give up. Not on this child. Not on Christmas."

Sebastian looked at the seriousness that was etched on Chris' face, and knew that there was no talking him out of the mission that he had in mind. He could either go along for the ride, or get out of the way.

"What is your plan exactly?" asked Sebastian.

"I'm not entirely sure. It's what I've been pondering..." Chris looked at Sebastian with a small smile. "Are you supporting me in this?"

"Lets get one thing straight," said Sebastian as he reached for his water glass, lifting up off the table and bringing it towards him, "I think that you're absolutely insane, but..." He shrugged, taking a sip of the glass before putting it back on the table, "Lets see what your plan is. You do have a sound mind at the end of the day."

Chris smirked at that, chuckling slightly as he shook his head.

"Thanks for that..." He cleared his throat, taking a sip out of his own glass before begin to unfold what little of an idea he had at the moment, "I suppose the only thing that I can do is wait a few days and see if she comes back to the toy store to spend her coupon. Smithy _did_ give her a coupon for anything within the store."

"And if that doesn't work?" asked Sebastian, arching a brow, "What's your back up plan?"

"I don't have one yet," said Chris. "I'm going to have to take it one step at a time, and just hope that it works out."

"Hope and faith seem to be a pattern within your thought pattern," remarked Sebastian.

"Faith is all you need at the end of the day," said Chris back before slipping a hand into his pocket to begin looking for money to pay for his food.

Sebastian didn't say anything, not quite sure how to refute that. He was just happy to see that Chris seemed to finally be out of that slump that he had been in for so long. It hadn't been fun for him to watch someone he regarded as his best friend in such a dark place. He had been so scared for a while there that Chris wouldn't ever come back from that.

"So, you heading home then?" asked Sebastian as he watched Chris tuck his tip between the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

"I have to stop at a store first. I need a new belt for my Santa uniform."

"Dude, no. You didn't break the belt," said Sebastian as he moved to stick his tip with Chris'.

"It was fraying, and I was trying to keep the pudge up on my stomach."

"Dude! The woman that lent it to me from prop storage will _kill_ me."

"I'm getting a replacement! I promise!"

Sebastian chuckled then, standing up from the booth as Chris did and playfully punched him in the arm.

"You'd better, or I'm going to come back from the grave to kick your..."

"I get it," chuckled Chris, looking about the diner as other diner goers turned to look at them.

The two of them moved to pay for their bill before stepping back outside. They stood on the sidewalk outside for a moment before Sebastian's phone chirped. He slipped a hand into his pocket to withdraw it and look at who had messaged him.

"Hey, it's Robert," said Sebastian. "He liked the picture I sent him."

Chris slipped his hands into his coat pocket as he turned to look at the text on Sebastian's phone. He could see Robert's text being displayed, and smirked at what he said.

"He's calling me Chris Kringle? Really?"

Sebastian chuckled, quickly composing a text back to Robert before slipping his phone into his pocket once more.

"Seems fitting and all what with you playing Santa Claus and your name actually being Chris."

"Sarcastic twit," muttered Chris with a smirk. "I'm going to find a way to get back at him."

"Or you could give him a break considering you're all jolly and everything," suggested Sebastian.

"Um...no..." said Chris with a chuckle. He moved to step away from Sebastian then, giving him a small salute. "Have a good evening, Sebastian, and good luck with shooting tomorrow. Tell everyone I say 'hey'. I'm off to go find a belt."

"Yeah, okay. Good luck with that mission," said Sebastian, "And your other mission as well."

A small smile eased its way onto Chris' face then at Sebastian's comment, and he nodded his head to acknowledge it.

"Thanks, Seb. It'll work out. It just has to."

"I'm sure that it will."

Sebastian watched Chris as he walked off down the sidewalk to where his vehicle was parked. He was sincerely hoping that Chris got what he needed to from all this. This gig could have been just the right thing to bounce him back from the dark place he had been in. Sebastian moved to walk towards his own vehicle then, happy that his best friend seemed to finally be back.


End file.
